


Finding Relief At His Hands

by Aliax



Category: A Land Fit for Heroes - Richard Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:08:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24387208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aliax/pseuds/Aliax
Summary: Ringil has had a trying day. Luckily for him, Seethlaw knows exactly how to help him unwind.Set in the same universe as "A Life Going Somewhere", but can be read independently.
Relationships: Ringil Eskiath/Seethlaw
Kudos: 2





	Finding Relief At His Hands

The negotiations at the Embassy with the separatists had gone dreadfully wrong, and Ringil could only think of one thing, one person, as he ran through the streets of the city: Seethlaw. He was so tense that he was quite sure that just getting thoroughly fucked wouldn't do tonight. No, he needed the dwenda to mess with his head, take his mind over, in that manner only he knew how to do so well.

He entered the restaurant through the back door, and almost immediately bumped into Ashgrin bringing a box of vegetables back from the storage room. The cook took one look at him, jutted his chin towards upstairs, and said, in that laconic way of his, "Go. I'll tell him you're here."

Ringil nodded gratefully, and climbed the stairs three at a time. His frayed nerves were making his hands shake by the time he slipped into Seethlaw's apartment and proceeded to take his clothes off, as per the rules. For once, he was looking forward to the preparatory shower: he needed all that hot water cascading down his back, to leech some of the jitters away.

He took his time, knowing Seethlaw would need it to prepare the bedroom. Half-heartedly, he pulled on his cock once or twice, because Seethlaw loved the sight of his half-erect dick before they'd even started on anything. Tonight, though, he was far too on edge to get any result, and quite frankly, he wasn't sure he even _wanted_ to be aroused at all - not yet, not before he had unloaded quite a bit of that nervousness from his overly tense nerves and muscles.

The bedroom was illuminated by only one of the bedside lights when he entered it, stark naked and still drying his hair. Seethlaw was here, impeccably dressed in his waiter's uniform, as usual. He was finishing to attach the padded leather ties to the corners of the bed. Ringil's heart stuttered; how the dwenda always seemed to know exactly what Ringil needed, Ringil had no idea, but he would be forever grateful for it.

He waited, as he knew he must, three paces away from the bed. When he was done with his preparations, Seethlaw came to him without a word, those intense dark eyes fixed on him, taking the whole of him in one long, thoughtful gaze. The dwenda frowned, raised one hand, laid it upon Ringil's hammering chest, and nodded to himself.

"Bed," he said quietly. "On your stomach."

Ringil was already moving to obey when a white hand on his shoulder stopped him. The fingers then moved into his hair and held him in place so that a short but fierce kiss could be wrenched from his lips.

Usually, such a kiss would have turned Ringil on. Today, it instead created a soft, warm, vulnerable hole deep in his guts, and he was trembling all over as he settled himself flat on the bed, arms and legs extended towards the corners, head turned to the side, eyes already fluttering shut.

He helped Seethlaw set all the gear into place, raising his ever-heavier limbs one by one, moving his head this and that way to allow for the mask, the ball gag, and finally the headphones to be set into place. There was only silence in his ears for a few seconds, and then the sounds of the marsh trickled in, after Seethlaw remotely turned the mike on, all the way over there on the border of that farm where his sister grew most of the food Ashgrin cooked in the restaurant.

Ringil took a deep breath through his nose as he lost himself into the marsh's song. Ooooh yes! Yes, this was good... A firm bed under his naked, helplessly spread-eagled body, only darkness for him to stare into, and the music of the wind and the trees and the animals to fill his head... The hole in his guts expanded into a blooming warmth which washed over his nerves from the inside. He could already feel his muscles starting to melt into the mattress.

He jerked, and then moaned, when a cool hand caressed his arse, before wet fingers pushed into the crack of it. He raised his hips as high as he could to help; the intruding hand wasted no time lubing his hole and he grunted in approval. Then he released a long, wonderfully contented groan when a vibrating and rather big plug was pushed into him. Oh, fuck yes! The setting was far too low to arouse him; it wasn't meant to. It was only supposed to be pleasant, and that it certainly was!

The line of kisses Seethlaw laid from the nape of his neck to the small of his back did cause his dick to twitch under him, but Ringil didn't mind. He knew the dwenda was only teasing him as a good-bye, almost an apology for leaving him alone. He had to go back to his job downstairs, though Ringil knew he would come up several times over the evening to check on him and if necessary adjust the situation.

A blanket was spread over his body, and a smile pulled at the corners of his lips, stretched as they were around the gag. There, perfect; everything was just perfect...

* * *

Seethlaw popped in several times, just as Ringil had predicted. He detected it from the faint smell of food which wafted around every time Seethlaw came close enough to him. He couldn't hear or see the dwenda; he couldn't even sense him walking. All he could do was catch that delicious scent, and every time he smiled around the gag, not bothering to hide his pleasure at having his lover so close, even though they didn't touch at all most of the time.

As always, holding the position went through phases. At first, the way the restraints pulled on his arms and legs were a huge relief, and helped him unwind. Then, as he turned into a puddle of relaxed goo, the urge to roll into a ball surged through him and slowly overwhelmed him, turning the experience into a rather unpleasant exercise of patience. He powered through it both out of helplessness, and by focusing on the pleasant vibrations flowing from his full arse. He couldn't help twitching and pulling on his restraints, here and there, useless as it was, but nothing worked. He could even hear himself grunt and groan as he squirmed on the bed, though there was nobody to hear him.

Somehow, Seethlaw always knew to come before the discomfort turned into real pain. A single touch of his cool palm on the back of Ringil's shoulder was enough to send Ringil plummeting back down into the mattress.

And then came the change of position. First the restraints came off, but Ringil knew better than to use that opportunity to move; he wanted _more_ , and for that, he had to stick to the rules, and the rules said that Seethlaw was the one who put him into the new posture, one limb, one push, one pull at a time. Slowly and carefully, Seethlaw turned him on his back, brought his legs together, and pushed them up against his chest, ankles crossed. Then each arm was wrapped around one side of the ball thus formed, and the thighs, wrists and ankles were all tied together, locking him into a position which left his arse particularly exposed and accessible - and gods, did he love that!

He groaned when Seethlaw ran his cool fingertips over his balls, then wrapped his hand around his flaccid cock and gave it a couple of lazy strokes. There would be sex, later, Seethlaw's touch promised. The change of setting on the plug, to one that made it grind against Ringil's prostate every minute or so, confirmed it.

Ringil grunted his approval with the plan and with the new position, and Seethlaw left once more.

* * *

Not so slowly, the pleasure built.

In this position, he couldn't relax fully, couldn't just lose himself in the song of the marsh and the darkness of his blinded eyes. He tried, still, tried to focus on one animal here, on the wind there, but every minute, the plug moved, passed over that sweet spot inside of him, and brought him straight back into his body with a spark of electricity zapping up his spine.

Soon, his cock began to fill, a little bit more with each occurrence. It began to throb, even when the plug didn't stimulate it. It called for Ringil's attention, more demanding with each moment that passed. Ringil forced himself to ignore it for as long as he could, even when it had risen to the point that it was rubbing against the bonds around his ankles. He forced himself to stay put, to not move, no matter how desperately he wanted it. The marsh was forgotten now; all Ringil could hear was the sound of his own panting. All he could think of was how much he wanted to roll his hips, just a little, just to take the edge off his growing, impatient need...

He cried out and then groaned in pleasurable pain when fingers twisted one of his nipples. He was so lost in his haze of arousal that, as often happened at this point, he had not noticed Seethlaw coming back. A flood of relief washed over him: the wait was over. Seethlaw was undoubtedly going to torture him some more, but the long, immobile wait was over!

Once again, Seethlaw entirely untied him and carefully repositioned him. When he was done, Ringil was spread-eagled again, but on his back this time, with his rock-hard erection standing up for everyone to see, and no means to do anything about it.

He shuddered when cool fingers settled on his shin and started trailing up. He had no hope that they would stop at his groin, not yet, not so easily. Indeed, they glided over his hip instead, and continued on over his abdomen, around one nipple, then the other, and up to his throat. They squeezed lightly, then went to work untying his gag and taking off the headphones. The mask remained, for now.

"Let me hear you, beautiful." There was a steely edge to Seethlaw's praising voice. Ringil had come here to unwind, and Seethlaw intended to carry out that task even in the throes of sex. Ringil gulped, but his dick kicked; yes, that was what he needed.

So when Seethlaw started his exploration again, using both hands this time, Ringil forced himself to speak up, loudly. He forced himself to approve - "Oh, yes!" - to beg - "Please!" - and simply to whine and moan and curse when he had nothing specific to say. At first, as always, it was utterly unnatural and somewhat humiliating to express himself so openly, but quickly, oh so quickly, it became liberating. Seethlaw was forcing him to own his own pleasure, and the freedom of it was heady. Ringil felt slightly drunk, and so very relaxed, as he squirmed under Seethlaw's touch, pushed against his hands, pleaded in words and actions for _more_ and _yes_ and _please!_

And when Seethlaw finally touched his cock - barely, just the tip, just enough to spread the liquid waiting there onto the large head - Ringil was gone enough that the words came on their own, "Oh, fuck, See! Fuck me, fuck me, _please!_ "

He was lost in a sea of arousal. Nothing mattered anymore but the fire running all over his body. He wailed, freely, when a hot mouth replaced the hand on his dick and engulfed it all the way to the root. He swore, again, when it sucked and swallowed and did all kinds of wicked things, each one of them bringing him closer to the edge, brightening the bliss coursing in his veins, turning the fire into an inferno, until finally, finally—

Tears escaped his still blinded eyes. "Oh gods, See," he sobbed as he emptied his balls down the dwenda's throat. "Gods, please, please..."

And then it was over, and he was crying and melting all over into the mattress, and there was a cool body lying on top of his, and soft lips kissing his own, and pushing the mask up his forehead.

Seethlaw's eyes were shining in the warm light of the bedside tables' lamps. His long lips were crooked into a sweet, welcoming smile. "Hello, beautiful," he whispered when Ringil finally managed to focus on him. All hint of the steely edge was gone. Now the musical voice was pure velvet, enveloping Ringil's pulled-apart mind into a soft blanket of reassurance. _You're mine,_ it said, _and I will always take care of you._

Ringil watched, full of peace, as Seethlaw retreated and went to untie his ankles - though not his wrists. He knew what was coming next, and he rejoiced in it. He loved being used by Seethlaw as a fuck toy. He loved watching Seethlaw lose himself in his pleasure as the dwenda rammed his cock down whichever hole of Ringil's he had chosen this time. The knowledge that the dwenda wanted him that much, that it was his - Ringil's - body which brought him such ecstasy... Yes, Ringil loved every moment of this, so he smiled when Seethlaw took his legs and raised them up, to get better access to his arse.

Soon, the big white cock had replaced the plug inside Ringil's hole, and Seethlaw was setting a slow, lazy rhythm. He wanted to take his time and Ringil grinned wider: he certainly had no objection to this opportunity to take his heart's content of the gorgeous view Seethlaw offered him. The dwenda was, if possible, even more beautiful than usually, looming over Ringil's spread-out upper body, his white skin gleaming in the low light, his lean muscles playing in his powerful shoulders and lithe arms.

He leaned down to kiss Ringil, and Ringil tasted himself on the dwenda's tongue, and oh gods, that little detail sent him spiralling again, because who was he that such a gorgeous being should want to make him happy, should offer his own mouth to bring him pleasure?

"Hush, beautiful," Seethlaw whispered in his ear. "You are mine." _And I am yours,_ Ringil knew were the unspoken words, no less true for not being said aloud.

Slowly, Seethlaw increased his rhythm, and Ringil found himself falling into it. His hips rolled up and down in sync with the dwenda's moves. His legs tried to pull themselves even closer to his chest, to open him more fully to the dwenda's use. His breath deepened, came faster.

And deep inside him, the pleasure started to come alive again...

* * *

Seethlaw had his head on Ringil's shoulder, and was playing with the pool of cooling come on his stomach. He had untied Ringil's hands and laid his arms down by his sides; Ringil had been and still was too exhausted to even think of trying to move them into any other position. He was too tired for anything, really. Even speaking seemed like an insurmountable effort, so he didn't. He just lay there, listening to his and Seethlaw's breaths, enjoying the tickling sensation of the cool fingers tracing wet patterns over his belly.

But then it occurred to him that this wouldn't do, that there was something he wanted to say after all. So he looked deep inside him, hang onto the feeling behind the words, and opened his mouth.

"See?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

Seethlaw straightened up and looked down at him with a very uncharacteristically vulnerable expression on his face. "No, love. Thank _you._ "

Ringil stared. "What for?"

Seethlaw ran a trembling hand down the side of Ringil's face. "You probably don't realise how upset you looked when you arrived. That you should have come straight to me for help..." He swallowed. "That you should have trusted me to know how to make you better..."

He leaned down for a soft kiss, and Ringil smiled into it. He closed his eyes to better enjoy it, while pondering the silliness that was his gorgeous, wonderful Seethlaw, still not quite trusting himself to be everything Ringil needed. How could he not understand? How - Ringil yawned - could he not _see?_ He was... He was...

Huh...

...

* * *

The End

* * *


End file.
